The Buggin Changing--Part 2
by INzaneTJ
Summary: Click. Click. Whir. A sickening crunch to the far right in front of the door is followed by a haunting screech from a boy. That sound. It's too distinct for Newt's comfort: the crunch of bones. The grind of metal against metal begins as the doors start to shut for the night. No one moves. The lights blink as if mocking Newt, daring him to enter, to rescue the boy. Taunting him.


The Buggin Changing—Part 2

**A/N: This is a follow up on 'The Buggin Changing-Part 1' prior to when Thomas arrived. Thank you to whoever reads this. :)**

**Julia**

The word _Griever _hangs in the air, but before anyone can respond, Newt is on his feet, demanding to know what's going on.

"It went back inside the shuck Maze," Gally responds. As the last word leaves his mouth, Newt and Minho push past him, almost knocking him off his feet. Alby follows right behind.

Why, of all times, would a Griever come out of the Maze? It makes no sense.

By the time Newt reaches the doors after Minho and Alby thanks to his bummed leg. Most of the Gladers are gathered in groups, watching something.

Newt pushes past them to the front, and stops at the edge of the Maze, straining his eyes to see what is beyond the doors.

Chills run down his spine at what lies before him. Blinking, red lights sprinkle the dark unknown, one of two signs Grievers are even there.

_Click. Click. Whir._

A sickening crunch to the far right in front of the door is followed by a haunting screech from a boy.

That sound. It's too distinct for Newt's comfort: the crunch of bones.

The grind of metal against metal begins as the doors start to shut for the night. No one moves.

The lights blink as if mocking Newt, daring him to enter, to rescue the boy. Taunting him.

The inhuman screams of agony coming from the Glader rise above the noises of the shutting doors.

Lost.

Scared.

Hurt.

Desperate.

Alone.

The boy is dying, being killed by those nightmarish creatures, alone, probably being torn to pieces, stung, impaled. Red spreads across the worn stone, nearly reaching Newt's shoes, but still inside the Maze.

Rule Number One.

Newt can't break it. It scares him to watch someone get killed a few feet away from him, yet it scares him more to enter the Maze.

That incident is branded in his mind. He shifts his weight to his good leg, another reminder of the reason why he can't go in.

Newt clenches his clammy hands, balling them up into fists. His feet seem to be part of the ground, unable to move forward, terrified.

He doesn't know the boy, but maybe it's for the best.

After all, the Creators took the Glader's lives, wiped their memories, and put them here, to live here, where the Grievers are just out of reach.

Everything is shucked up. Saving the kid is out of the question, as has always been because of the rule.

The rule. The rule that kept them alive seemed more of an enemy than ever.

Newt wanted to leave, but he can't force his legs to move, only watch the boy's form writhing in pain.

Newt wanted to drown out the noise, but he can't cover his ears, only listen to the boy's screams.

Newt wanted to scream himself, but he can't open his mouth, only stand silently while this boy dies in front of him.

The grinding comes to a complete stop, the doors in place, shut for the night. That's it.

He won't see the kid again, ever. A small, sweaty hand rests on Newt's shoulder.

Newt forces his hands to relax, and throws a glance at Chuck, the little Greenie they just received from the Box three weeks ago. He looks to be about twelve or thirteen, the youngest of the Gladers.

Chuck's eyes are wide, and Newt can't decide if the kid is trying to comfort him, or trying to comfort himself.

He pushes the boy's hand off him, and turns away from the door as Alby speaks up.

"We'll check at the doors at the Wake Up," he responds to the Glader's questions as if the were going to watch a football recap tomorrow, not like checking for a corpse, "Back to work."

Newt weaves his way in and out among the residents, impatient at their slow pace. He wants to be alone.

Forgetting would be best. Working to take his mind off it would be even better.

Just then, a scream comes from the Homestead, drawing Newt's attention elsewhere. Trying to act like nothing's wrong, more to convince himself, he heads for the building in a half-jog, half-limp.

"That's my bloody cue," he mutters.

For the second time today, he goes up the stairs again.

At the very top, he meets Clint, who appears to have been about to descend.

"What's the bloody problem this time?" Newt asks, slowing his nervous breaths down, regaining composure.

"It's Gally. He got Stung. He's going through the Changing," Clint replies, turning to the nearest room.

Newt rolls his eyes. Gally. He manages to get into all sorts of trouble, and now a Griever _Stung_ him? When did that happen?

"What happened?" he says, irritated, and not inclined to feel bad for the guy.

Clint opens the door, and both boys enter. "I don't know, but he—"

"He what?" Newt presses, but stops short in the doorway.

Gally is sitting up in bed, his pale frame with sickly green vines bringing back the other Changings in Newt's mind.

"I saw him," Gally whispers hoarsely. "Things are going to change."


End file.
